Race Against Time
by R First Gamble
Summary: Jughead is taken hostage by none other than the Black Hood. Will Betty be able to save him in time?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys! This obviously isn't a new story, I've posted it on here before, but I was reposting it on AO3 and decided to rearrange some of the chapters and such, and to keep it consistent, I decided to repost it on here. :)**

The pistol cracked against Jughead's cheekbone, spraying blood across his face, as well as the basement wall several feet away. The teen did his best to withhold any sort of facial expression as to not give the masked criminal what he was looking for: a reaction. At this point, so many different parts of his body were throbbing that his face simply blended in with the rest of the pain. And he thought his Serpent initiations had been bad; at his estimation, he was nursing at least three broken ribs, a broken wrist, and a potential concussion. Actually, post-pistol whipping, he was certain he had a concussion.

"Why don't you just kill me?" Jughead asked, spitting out blood and meeting the green eyes of his assailant. "Like you did all of the others. What makes me different?"

"You know why," the masked man snapped, staring down to where he had the young journalist tied to a plumbing pipe.

"I'm afraid I don't," Jughead challenged, glaring up at the Black Hood. He swallowed and the nauseating taste of iron ran down the back of his throat. "None of your other victims showed any sign of abuse or torture, only fatal or near-fatal wounds. Do tell, what has earned me this distinct privilege?"

"Betty Cooper has been ignoring me," the serial killer responded with a low growl. "Ever since she reconnected with you and the Lodge girl, she hasn't been reporting to me. She has been ignoring phone calls and breaking the rules I clearly set for her. I needed to get her attention, and what better way than through you, her star-crossed love?"

"Ah, lucky me," Jughead groaned as he shifted and a particularly painful throb radiated through his ribcage; it hurt terribly just to breathe. He could now feel blood running down his cheek and neck from his most recently acquired injury as well. "So glad I could be the middleman for the two of you. In case you hadn't heard, nobody likes being the third wheel."

The masked criminal swung forward and delivered a swift punch to Jughead's abdomen. "Be quiet, or else I'll kill you and use the Lodge girl as bait instead."

"Noted," Jughead wheezed. He closed his eyes, fighting back tears. There was no way in hell he could give this jackass the satisfaction of seeing him cry. The teen heard footsteps growing softer, as well as a door opening and closing, and knew that he had been left alone for the time being.

And to think only a few hours before, he had been the happiest he could remember.

Jughead collapsed on the mattress next to his girlfriend, both of them breathing heavily. He wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to smile at Betty, who was now lying on her stomach and watching him with an unreadable expression on her gorgeous face.

"What?" he asked, running a hand over her bare shoulder. "You're okay, right?"

"Yeah," she smiled, blushing slightly. "I'm okay. More than okay, actually."

"Good," Jughead replied. He had a hard time preventing himself from grinning too wide. "You're sure it didn't hurt too badly or anything? You're sure you're fine?"

"Yes," Betty laughed. "I promise you, I'm absolutely, one hundred percent more-than-fine. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." She paused before adding, "I'm really happy, Jug."

"Me too," Jughead murmured, leaning over and placing a kiss on his girlfriend's lips. If someone had asked him how his day would end, it definitely wouldn't have been this manner. He thought over the events that led up to this moment: the race between the Serpents and the Ghoulies, Betty's admission that she had been forced to break up with him at the Black Hood's bidding, and the arrest of Mr. Phillips. None of those events screamed 'hey, guess who is finally getting laid tonight?'. Hell, even his and Betty's hangout earlier had almost felt plutonic, with her reading on the couch while he wrote his exposition of the Sugarman's arrest.

"Do you think you can stay the night?" Jughead asked. He scooted closer to his girlfriend when he noticed chills running over her flawless, fair skin. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her in. This felt so perfect; he wasn't ready to let her go, even if he would see her the next day.

"Are you kidding?" Betty asked, snuggling back into his chest. "My mom almost skinned me alive when I accidentally slept over on your couch, fully clothed. If only she could see me now."

"Thank God she can't," Jughead snorted. "You could tell her you're spending the night at Veronica's," he added hopefully, burying his nose into the sweet scent of her hair.

"She would see right through it, Jug," Betty replied sadly. "Believe me, I wish I could. There is nowhere else I'd rather be than here with you. But I do need to get going. I'm pretty sure my curfew passed while we were…busy."

"I'll give you a ride home," Jughead said reluctantly. He gave Betty one more squeeze before straightening up and looking around for his boxers. Once he found them, he glanced up at the naked form of his girlfriend, also searching for her clothes, and he found himself wondering how on earth he had gotten so lucky to have her as his.

Once situated on the bike, Betty wrapped her arms around his waist. He navigated the deserted streets of Riverdale smoothly and dropped Betty off, kissing her at the door and telling her he loved her. Once she was safely inside, he turned around, hopped on his bike, and headed home.

During the drive, Jughead allowed his thoughts to wander to easier times, when Riverdale didn't have a killer on the loose and everything was more relaxed. Back then, Betty could have told Alice she was sleeping at Veronica's without a second thought and she could have stayed the night with him. Now, everyone in the town was paranoid, keeping their children at home within reach just in case. Except for him, of course. Per usual, he was fending for himself.

Jughead shook his head, not allowing his self-pity to ruin his fantastic mood. Hell, he had just exchanged virginities with the most amazing girl on the face of the planet. Smiling, he turned on the last road before reaching Sunnyside Trailer Park.

And that's when it happened.

Out of nowhere, a gray sedan ran a stop sign and plowed into the side of Jughead's bike. The teen went flying through the air and landed in a grassy ditch on the side of the road. He stuck his arm out in an attempt to catch his fall, and upon contact with the ground he felt a sickening crack and intense pain began radiating from his wrist.

"Fuck," Jughead groaned, clutching his right arm in his left hand. He cursed the negligent driver, whom he was sure had been on the phone or texting.

Suddenly, a strong pair of hands scooped Jughead up from under his shoulders and roughly pulled him out of the ditch. Jughead lashed out and fought back, but with one arm down and being dazed from his fall, his attempts at escaping were futile. He found himself being thrown into the backseat of the sedan and locked in.

The man who had abducted him got into the driver's seat of the car and turned around, and Jughead found himself unsurprised to see his assailant had a black mask covering his face.

"I was wondering when you and I were going to cross paths," Jughead said quietly, doing his best to downplay his paralyzing fear.

"You and me both," replied the Black Hood, putting the car into drive and speeding away from the scene of the crime.

And that was how he got here. Beaten, bruised, and bleeding, Jughead groaned as another throb radiated up from his arm and into his shoulder. He was certain his wrist was broken; it had been black and blue before they had arrived at their destination, and he had zero interest in seeing what it looked like now. The fact it was tied to a pipe and moved every time he shifted his weight only added insult to literal injury.

How long could he stay here before the Black Hood would kill him? How long would it take Betty to figure out where he was? By his estimation, it had to be the middle of the night. There would be at least another few hours until Betty woke up, never mind how much time it took her to realize he was missing.

"God Betty, please hurry," he whispered.

* * *

Betty woke up to a frantic tapping on her bedroom window. Smiling sleepily, she rolled over, expecting to see Jughead at the top of the ladder outside. Instead of her raven-haired, beanie-clad boyfriend, she found a distressed Archie Andrews peering in. Ignoring the fact she was wearing nothing but Jughead's gray "S" t-shirt and underwear, she jumped out of bed and ran to the window, throwing it open; something was amiss.

"What is it, Arch?" Betty asked, stepping aside and letting Archie climb in.

"Betty, it's Jughead," Archie rushed. Betty could see stress emanating from her best friend's brown eyes and her stomach lurched painfully. "They found his bike on the side of the road. It's completely totaled."

"What?" Betty asked, her mind going completely blank. Her heart was in her throat. "Where is Jug? Is he okay?"

"That's the thing," Archie said slowly. He ran a hand through his red hair, looking helpless. "They can't find him anywhere."

Betty allowed herself a moment to process this information before beginning to construct a plan of action.

"Okay," she said slowly, gathering her thoughts. "The area of the accident has been canvassed completely? They searched all around?"

"Yes," Archie replied. "Sheriff Keller stopped by my house to see if he was with us after they checked his trailer, he thought maybe after the wreck he walked here to get help, but we haven't seen him. I came up here to see if he was with you, but obviously not."

"He dropped me off last night," Betty whispered. "He must've wrecked on the way home. Oh, Arch, this is all my fault! I should have just stayed with him and dealt with my mom later."

"Don't be ridiculous, Betty," Archie said. "We've been telling him not to ride that bike for weeks now. We just need to start thinking about where he would go."

"Did you ask Sheriff Keller if they had checked the White Wyrm?"

"They did check there, no dice," Archie replied. "None of the Serpents had seen him either, they said he missed a meeting last night, so it sounds like you've seen him more recently than they have."

Betty blushed a deep crimson. She hadn't realized Jughead had missed a meeting with the Serpents when they had their evening together the night before.

"What is it, Betty?" Archie asked, studying his friend's strange facial expression. "Do you know where he might be?"

"Oh, no, I'm- uh- just thinking," Betty replied, blushing an even darker red. She wasn't quite ready to disclose the news of her lost virtue with her friends. Suddenly, a terrible thought occurred to her, halting her thoughts, and all of the color in her cheeks disappeared. "Archie, do you think the Black Hood could have anything to do with this?"

"Let's go talk to Sheriff Keller," Archie replied, refusing to answer the question he had already been suspecting himself.

Once Betty was dressed and ready, the blonde and the redhead made their way to the police department. She walked straight past the front desk to Sheriff Keller's office, where they found the detective sitting at his desk on his computer.

"Hey guys," the Sheriff greeted them, looking up from his work and leaning back in his chair. "I assume this isn't a social call."

"Sheriff Keller, I think the Black Hood has Jughead," Betty said by way of greeting, sitting down in front of the older man.

"Whoa now," the cop said, holding his hands up. "Slow down, I think you're jumping to conclusions here, Betty. My guys have been working this case all morning and we have no evidence that suggests that Jughead's disappearance has anything to do with the Black Hood."

"Sheriff, with all due respect, I don't feel as though your guys have put a ton of effort into finding Jughead or the Black Hood case," Archie began, but the Sheriff cut him off.

"Hold it, Andrews," Keller interrupted. "I know the two of you have no respect for me or my force, but I can guarantee you we have put all of the effort we can into both of these cases. Think about it, you two. This isn't the first time Jughead has disappeared. He tried to run off to Toledo right after we arrested his dad, and I can't tell you the number of times his parents have come in here looking for him when he was younger. The kid is flighty. He probably wrecked his bike, got upset about it, and took off."

"He wouldn't leave me," Betty said forcefully, glaring at the man sitting before her. However, at the same time, she couldn't stop herself from thinking over hers and Jughead's recent conversation at Pop's, where he told her he wanted the two of them to run away from Riverdale and never look back. _The two of us_ , _together,_ Betty reassured herself. _Not just him._

"I don't know what to tell you, Ms. Cooper," Sheriff Keller said. He looked sympathetic. "If I hear anything at all, I'll get in touch with you right away. But he hasn't been missing forty-eight hours yet so I can't open a full investigation."

Betty stood up, completely demoralized. "Forty-eight hours could be the difference between Jughead living and dying, Sheriff Keller," she said quietly. She turned and left the office with Archie in tow.

"Okay, what's the next step?" Archie asked once they were outside.

"I don't know, Arch," Betty moaned. She put her face in her hands. "What if Sheriff Keller is right? What if Jug did run off? It wouldn't be _totally_ out of character."

"Betty, don't be ridiculous," Archie said firmly. He placed both hands on Betty's shoulders and stared at her straight in the eye. "You said it yourself. Jughead wouldn't leave Riverdale without you. Not now. He's head over heels for you, Betty."

"I know," Betty replied, rubbing her face with her hands. All of the emotions from the past hour welled in her chest and tears began streaming down her face. "But I don't even know where to start looking for him, Archie. Not if he's not at the trailer, the Wyrm, or either of our homes. And if the Black Hood does have him, I haven't had any contact with him since I started ignoring his calls."

"Let's go get Veronica," Archie replied. "Three heads are better than two. We're going to get him back, Betty. There's no doubt in my mind."

* * *

Across town, the Black Hood delivered another swift kick to Jughead's side. The Serpent shouted out in pain, drawing away from his assailant and cowering best he could, considering he was still tied to the rusted pipe.

"I told you to control your smart mouth," the Black Hood growled menacingly.

Jughead didn't reply. He had no control over the tears that were streaming down his face; he didn't know how much more of this torture he could take. He coughed, attempting to regain his breath, and a sizable amount of blood dripped down his chin. The Serpent gagged at the distinct taste of iron that now coated his mouth, as well as the back of his throat.

"Just kill me," he whispered, staring at the concrete floor.

"Where's the fun in that?" the Black Hood asked menacingly. "Now that you're a little more humble, why don't we give your girlfriend a call? I think it's about time that I regained her attention." He shoved a dialing phone to the side of Jughead's face, reopening the cut from the pistol whip that had finally closed.

* * *

Betty's phone rang, "Unknown" showing across the screen.

"Archie, it's him," Betty gasped, clutching her cell. They were outside of the Pembrooke at this point, going to retrieve their friend.

"Answer it, Betty," the redhead encouraged.

Betty swiped across the screen, her heart racing like it never had before. She pressed the screen to turn the speakerphone on. "Hello?" she asked timidly.

"Hey Betts," came the voice of a very weak Jughead Jones.

"Jughead," Betty sobbed, covering her mouth. Archie wrapped a supportive arm around her hunched shoulders. "I knew he had you. Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay."

"I've been better," Jughead wheezed through the phone. The last kick to the ribs had done him in. "I don't know where I am, but you have to-"

"-I think that's enough talking with him," the Black Hood interrupted. "Do I have your attention back, Betty Cooper?"

"What do you want?" Betty asked, angry tears spilling down her face.

"You," the Black Hood responded simply. "I feel as though I have made that painfully clear. This recent defiance of yours is unacceptable. I will give you your boyfriend's location as long as you vow to return to my service. And I guarantee that if you continue to ignore me, this will happen again, but next time, I will not be kind enough to spare him."

"Got it," Betty said, tight-lipped. "I won't ignore you again. Please just tell me where he is. He needs to get to a hospital."

"Don't fail me, Betty Cooper," the Black Hood said ominously. "He's where I showed you your true identity. Come alone, or else there will be blood. Or, more blood, I suppose I should say. Your boyfriend has already spilled enough. You might want to hurry. He's starting to not look very good." With that, the phone line went dead.

Betty fell to her knees, ignoring the sting of the concrete, with her face in her hands. Archie quickly knelt down in front of her.

"Betty, look at me," Archie said, his hands on her shoulders once again. "You have to keep it together right now. Jughead needs you."

"You're right," Betty replied, taking a deep breath and regaining her composure somewhat. She tightened her ponytail and met her best friend's gaze. "This has to stop once and for all, Arch. We need a plan."

"A plan, what do you mean a plan?" Archie asked, his hands still on Betty's shoulders. "We go tell Sheriff Keller where Jughead is being kept so they rescue him."

"No. You heard him, Archie. If we involve the cops, he's going to kill Jug. We have to figure out a plan for me to get Jughead out of there _and_ get rid of the Black Hood for good," Betty said determinedly. "I can't keep in contact with him anymore. It's going to be the end of me. Riverdale needs to be safe again, and the only way we are going to do that is get rid of him."

"I understand that, but first things first, Betty," Archie responded. "I'm all for coming up with a plan to get rid of the Black Hood, believe me. I've been there, remember? But he has Jughead, and Jug sounds really hurt. You said it yourself; we need to get him to a hospital. I'll help you come up with a plan, but not until after Jug is safe and sound. Deal?"

"You're right," Betty said softly, now realizing how reckless her thoughts had been. She wanted to cry. "Sorry, Arch. I can't believe I was that selfish."

"No, you weren't," Archie replied evenly. "This is a high-stress situation, neither of us are thinking clearly."

"And what, pray tell, are my boyfriend and best friend doing kneeling in front of my apartment building?" came a familiar voice from above Archie and Betty.

"Oh, V!" Betty said, jumping up and giving her best friend a hug. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. "We have so much to tell you, but we have to hurry. The Black Hood has Jughead!"

"What?!" Veronica exclaimed, her dark eyes wide. "I need to know everything, and I needed to know ten minutes ago."

Once in the more private location of Veronica's bedroom, Betty and Archie filled Veronica in on Jughead's kidnapping. They explained the circumstances regarding the Black Hood's approved rescue plan and let the city girl absorb all the information they bestowed upon her.

"So, what are we waiting for?" Veronica asked, standing up from where she was sitting on her bed. "Let's go get Jughead."

"I have to go alone, Veronica," Betty said, swallowing nervously. She glanced at the outraged expression on her best friends' faces. "Seriously, guys. He said he would hurt Jug if I came with anyone else. And from what it sounded like on the phone," she paused, blinking back tears, "…from what it sounds like, Jug can't take much more."

"Keep your phone on you," Veronica said slowly, her eyes narrow. "We will be tracking your location the entire time."

"As long as you stay away from the abandoned house, I don't care what you do," Betty said. "Except call the cops- you can't involve the police in any way. That's been one of his rules all along and I'm not taking any chances. Not when Juggie's life is at stake."

"Stay safe, Betty," Veronica said, her usually tan complexion looking pale.

"Of course," Betty said, gathering her wits. She tightened her ponytail and looked at Archie. "I'll bring him back, Arch."

"I know you will, Betty," Archie replied. He pulled her into a hug, which Veronica quickly joined, and with that, she left the Pembrooke and began her trek across town to the abandoned house.

* * *

Jughead groaned as he struggled to take in a breath. His chest felt heavy, and it was making breathing increasingly difficult. He coughed and felt the now-normal sensation of blood coming up his throat. Though his knowledge base typically favored the realm of the arts, he was relatively certain at least one of his science classes had taught him that coughing up blood was not a good sign.

"Your girlfriend is late," the Black Hood muttered as he paced in front of the injured teen. "Much later and I think she will be too late to save you."

"I already gave you the option to kill me, buddy. No take backs," Jughead said, spitting blood onto the cement floor. He moaned as his restraints pulled against his wrist and another spasm of pain radiated up his limb.

Luckily for the sake of Jughead's remaining health, the killer seemed too preoccupied to respond to the comment. He continued his pacing back and forth across the basement, waiting on his guest to arrive.

Jughead's thoughts became progressively fuzzier and disorganized. The ground beneath him seemed to sway back and forth, making him both nauseous and dizzy. He kept experiencing random spells of being uncomfortably hot or uncomfortably cold, which caused a perpetual layer of cold sweat to cling to his skin. Whether this was being caused by too many hits to the head, or too much blood loss, Jughead was unsure. At this point, the only thing he knew for certain was that Betty could not get there soon enough.

* * *

Once the abandoned house came into Betty's line of sight, she couldn't help but break into a sprint. The cold spring air stung her lungs as she ran through the house's yard and through the front door. Like the last time she had stepped foot in the building, there were no signs of life. Walking through, she looked for clues regarding her boyfriend's or his keeper's whereabouts. She crossed into the back portion of the house, where she had not explored previously, and her eyes quickly focused on a heap of gray knit fabric on the floor. Gasping, she knelt before it and picked it up. It was Jughead's beanie, and much to her horror, it was soaked with blood.

"Oh God, Jug," Betty moaned, clutching the hat to her chest. "Please be okay."

Looking up from the hat, Betty noticed an open door with descending stairs. She swallowed, doing everything in her power to slow her racing heart, as she stood up and slowly approached the doorway. Dim light was emitting from the basement, and in that moment she was convinced she found where Jughead was being kept. She crept down the stairs and looked to the back of the poorly lit basement, where the crumpled form of Jughead Jones was restrained against an old rusted pipe.

"Juggie!" Betty gasped, leaping down the few remaining steps and sprinting across the vacant basement to her boyfriend. She engulfed him in a hug, but quickly withdrew when she saw him flinch away from the contact.

"Hey, Betts," Jughead said weakly. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Betty did everything she could to prevent her expression from telling Jughead exactly how bad he looked. It was worse than she thought. His usually pale skin was completely void of color, and bright red blood was around his mouth and had dripped down his chin. His typically sharp blue eyes were unfocused and he appeared dazed. It was a sight directly out of a horror film, and it hit _so_ much harder being someone Betty loved and cared about.

"Shh, don't talk," Betty whispered. "Don't use your energy. I'm going to get you out of here."

"I know," Jughead wheezed quietly. "I love you, Betty Cooper."

"I love you too," Betty replied, cupping her hand around Jughead's swollen cheek.

"Look who finally showed up," came a voice from behind the pair.

Betty whipped around as the Black Hood stepped out of the shadows of the basement. He was exactly as Archie had described, average in high and stature, but with piercing green eyes that showed clearly through his mask.

"I came as fast as I could," Betty said defensively. She was certain if her heart were beating any faster she would go into cardiac arrest. "I'm going to take Jughead with me, and I'll do whatever you need me to once I get him to the hospital."

"Not so fast," the Black Hood said, slowly approaching the blonde. "I think you and I need to have a bit of a chat first, to make sure that you never defy me again. In fact, I think you owe me a _favor_."

Chills ran through Betty's body. "That's not what you said on the phone," she challenged, her words sounding substantially braver than she felt. "I thought you were all about keeping promises."

"Plans change," the killer said smoothly. He continued to approach Betty like a jaguar after its prey. "And I'm presuming you want to get your boyfriend out of here as fast as you can. So, fighting what I have in mind will do nothing but delay his arrival to the hospital."

"What do you have in mind?" Betty asked slowly, backing up as the serial killer continued to narrow in on her. To her horror, her back hit the wall of the basement, and the Black Hood had her cornered.

"Oh, I have several options," the Black Hood said, reaching out and stroking the side of Betty's face. "I just need to decide on what exactly I want."

"Get away from her!" Jughead roared, pulling against his restraints as hard as he could. He ignored the intense pain radiating through the entirety of his body. "I'll kill you! If you touch her, I'll rip you to shreds."

"Mr. Jones," the Black Hood responded without turning around. "I think you should do yourself a service and relax. I did your girlfriend a favor by not killing you when I _really_ wanted to. Now she owes me a favor, if she wants to get you out of here alive, that is."

Betty swallowed, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her body was trembling uncontrollably. This could not be happening; not now, not in front of Jughead. She drew in a shaky breath, doing her best to stall the situation at hand. "What do you want from me?" she whispered.

The Black Hood reached out to grab the front of her shirt, but before he could do so, a crow bar cracked against the side of his head, and he crumpled to the floor.

Betty stood, still pressed against the wall, stunned at what had just happened. A panting Archie Andrews stood behind the unconscious killer, his hands on his knees, and his brown eyes wide.

"Did he touch you?" the red head asked. He did his best to keep his tone neutral and calm, but he failed miserably.

"No, not really," Betty said, hunching over and hugging herself. She glanced up at her concerned best friend. "Thank goodness you got here when you did, Arch."

Suddenly, a groan from across the room snapped her back to attention. Stepping over the body of the Black Hood, she ran across to Jughead and began untying him, doing her best to avoid touching his clearly mangled arm. At this point, his lips had turned an unsettling blue color, and his body was shaking from head to toe.

"You're safe now, Juggie," Betty whispered as Jughead put his head forward on her shoulder and let out a muffled whimper.

"I think I may need to go to the doctor, Betts," Jughead slurred into her chest. And with that, he promptly lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Betty burst through the doors of the hospital with Veronica directly behind her. Archie had stayed behind at the crime scene to talk to the cops, but he would follow them as quickly as he could. The two had run from the abandoned house to Riverdale General; much to their dismay, they had not been permitted to ride in the ambulance with Jughead because they weren't next-of-kin. This, of course, was highly protested by Betty but the EMTs had not budged on their protocol.

"I'm here to see Forsythe Jones," Betty gasped to the front desk, clutching the stitch in her chest. Jughead's legal name felt foreign on her tongue.

"The Third," Veronica added, also panting.

"Hold on just a minute," the administrator said, typing into her computer. "It appears as though we have him in the operating room right now, but if everything goes well, he should be placed on the surgical trauma floor afterward."

The _'if everything goes well'_ did not go unnoticed by Betty.

"Thank you," she rasped, resuming her run in the direction of the waiting room. It occurred to Betty that between Fred Andrews and now Jughead, they had spent entirely too much time in the waiting room recently. She and her best friend sat in the uncomfortable chairs, catching their respective breaths.

"I have run more today than I have in the last five years combined," Betty said, wiping the sweat off her brow. "My mother will be thrilled."

"Thank God for River Vixen conditioning," Veronica replied, fanning herself. "How are you, Betty? Be real with me."

The blonde took a moment to think about her answer. "I think I'm still in shock," Betty replied honestly. This was true. She found herself experiencing a myriad of emotions; relief that Jughead was out of the hands of the Black Hood, but also a crippling fear that he would not make it out of surgery alive. Upon their arrival to the scene, the EMTs had only been able to find a weak, thready pulse, and when they had taken his blood pressure, it had been dangerously low. "I'm not going to feel okay until I know Jug is going to be fine, if that's what you're asking."

"Understandable," Veronica said immediately. She reached over and grasped Betty's hand. "He's going to be okay, Betty. Those Joneses are a resilient bunch."

Betty snorted. "You're probably right, V. And to think, just last night everything was so normal. Better than normal, extraordinary actually," she added with a blush.

"What happened last night?" Veronica asked, shrewdly inspecting her best friends face. At the onset of Betty's blush, her dark eyes widened. "Wait a minute," she said slowly. "Did it finally happen?"

Despite the dark circumstances revolving around them, Betty allowed herself to smile. "It may have," she confirmed slowly.

Veronica shrieked, clapping her hands and bouncing in her chair. "And," she prompted. "How was it? Tell me everything."

"We were just hanging out on his couch," Betty said, thinking back to the night before. It felt like so long ago at this point. "And then he leaned down to kiss me, and it just went from there." She blushed a deeper crimson, not used to being the one with the racy stories to tell.

"I love it," Veronica said. She gave Betty a one-armed hug. "I am so proud of you!"

"It really just felt natural," Betty explained. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. "I think we just care that much about one another; it didn't feel forced or awkward like I thought it would. He was really sweet about it too. He must have asked if I was okay a thousand times."

"You know, for a guy I initially wrote off as a weirdo loner, Jughead Jones is winning in my book."

"I'm glad you approve," Betty responded. She frowned, checking the clock. Her stomach was a knotted mess. "I really hope he's okay."

The next four hours went by at a painful rate. Archie finished up with the police two hours after Betty and Veronica arrived at the hospital, and for the remaining two hours, the threesome rode the emotional rollercoaster that is waiting to hear whether or not your friend is going to survive.

"And they wouldn't take off the Black Hood's mask?" Betty asked, floored by the information Archie had delivered.

"Not while I was there, at least," Archie replied. "I'm pretty certain they transported him here, but I'm not sure. They took me to the station for questioning pretty quickly after you two followed the ambulance. They wouldn't want to reveal that information in front of me I'm sure. "

"So, after all this, we still don't know who he is?" Veronica asked, clearly frustrated.

"I don't even care who he is at this point," Betty said, feeling deflated.

"Are you serious, B? That goes against every journalistic fiber of your being!" Veronica exclaimed, not quite believing her friend.

"Yeah, Betty, he shot my dad," Archie said, also shocked.

"I know," Betty began slowly. "I think I'm just thankful it's all over now. No more being strung along by a sociopath's messed up vendetta, no more worrying about our safety. As soon as Jughead is in the clear, I am ready to put this behind me and let Riverdale return to normal."

"I know I haven't spent as much time here as you guys," Veronica said, smirking, "but I'm not sure Riverdale is capable of 'normal'."

At that moment, a physician walked through the double doors from the operating room. Betty, Veronica, and Archie, being the only ones in the waiting room, jumped out of their chairs.

"Are you guys here for Forsythe Jones?" the surgeon asked.

"Yes sir, we are the closest thing Jughead has to family," Archie replied, challenging the doctor to attempt to withhold information regarding their friend.

"Okay, good enough. I'm Doctor Phillips, I was the surgeon assigned to the case. Long story short, he's going to be okay," the doctor said, smiling at the relieved expressions on the faces of the teenagers before him. "That being said, this surgery was not simple, and Mr. Jones has a long road to recovery ahead of him."

"What do we need to know?" Betty asked shakily, her heart hammering against her sternum. She and Veronica both leaned into Archie for support.

"Well, he is going to be out of commission for some time," Dr. Phillips said. "He has a broken wrist that we put a cast on; thankfully that didn't need a pin or any surgery. The main issue that we encountered was a hemothorax, meaning one of his broken ribs punctured the lining of his thoracic cavity, which in turn filled with blood. He was bleeding out internally, and it caused his left lung to collapse. Luckily, during the surgery, we put in a chest tube and that situation is now under control. The tube will have to stay in for at least a week to continue draining blood and debris from his chest cavity. To help replenish his blood supply, we had to give him a transfusion of two units."

Betty nodded, absorbing as much of the information as she could. "Is there anything else we need to be aware of, or any other injuries?"

"He has a pretty nasty concussion; I don't believe he was wearing his helmet at the time of the motorcycle accident, and it would appear he took several blows to the head after the accident as well."

"No helmet? I'll kill him myself," Archie grumbled.

"When can we see him, Doctor Phillips?" Veronica asked, turning on her charm in an effort to see Jughead sooner.

"We have him settling into the trauma floor now," the doctor replied. "I don't expect he will wake up in the next couple hours, though. It can take the body a while to come off of anesthesia, especially with head injuries."

"Thank you, Doctor Phillips," Betty whispered, wanting nothing more than to walk into the room to an alert and oriented Jughead Jones.

"Of course, I will be doing rounds in the vicinity if you guys need anything else."

The teens thanked the doctor and turned to one another to formulate a plan.

"I'm not leaving the hospital until Jughead is awake," Betty said. "But if you guys want to go home and get cleaned up, I can hold down the fort here."

Archie glanced at Veronica, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "What do you think, Ronnie?"

"I don't want to leave you alone, B, not after the Black Hood tried to assault you," Veronica said softly. She reached out and grabbed Betty's hand. "What do you want us to do?"

"I don't mind being alone," Betty said, encouraging her friends to take a break. Some time alone to think things through would allow her to get her thoughts straight and come to terms with the day's happenings. "You guys go ahead. And Archie, will you tell my mom and dad what happened? I realized my phone must have fallen out of my pocket on my run here."

"Sure thing, Betty," Archie said.

Betty walked to the trauma floor and asked the nurse for directions to Jughead's room. Once reaching room 16, she opened the door and peeked in. Jughead was lying on his back, and if it weren't for the bruising and swelling on his face or the cast on his arm he could have simply been sleeping.

"Hey, Juggie," Betty whispered, sitting on the chair next to her boyfriend's bed. She took his good hand in hers and stroked it absentmindedly with her thumb. "I'm so sorry all of this happened. It's my fault for ignoring the Black Hood and getting you caught up in this mess."

Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Seeing Jughead caused a rush of emotions to aggregate within her, emotions that Betty had previously thought she had under control. She had to remind herself not to pierce her palm with the nails on her idle hand.

"I was so scared, Jug," she whispered, allowing the tears to spill down her face. "When I learned he had you, and then when I saw you…you looked like the living dead. And then when he cornered me…" Betty allowed her voice to trail off, not wanting to complete the sentence out loud. "If Archie didn't come through when he did, I don't know what would have happened," she finished weakly.

Jughead remained silent and asleep, but his even breathing and the rhythmic beep of the heart rate monitor were enough to pacify Betty. She avoided looking at the chest tube protruding from his side; there was already a substantial amount of blood draining into its storage compartment.

"I thought I was going to lose you," Betty murmured. "Just when you and I took a step forward in our relationship, I thought everything was going to come crumbling down. I am so glad you're to be okay."

Betty leaned forward and pushed a dark curl out of Jughead's face, keeping in mind to avoid the deep cut across his cheekbone. Four stitches were now holding it together, and Betty found herself wondering if it would leave a scar, a permanent reminder of how brave he had been through these trials.

A wave of exhaustion hit Betty, and she leaned forward, carefully avoiding the IV lines and put her head on the edge of the mattress. She vowed to not leave this spot, not until her man was awake.

* * *

Before Jughead even opened his eyes, he could tell he was safe. That being said, the amount of pain he found himself in was far less than ideal, an eight out of ten at the least. He cracked his eyes open and took in his surroundings. The hospital room was dark, and there was no light coming in from outside, so he assumed it must be the middle of the night. Jughead found he was hooked up to a heart monitor and had a nasal cannula around his face to give him more oxygen. Speaking of oxygen, it really, _really_ hurt to breathe.

Looking down, he found a very pretty blonde fast asleep with her head against his shoulder and her hand encircling his.

"Hey, Betts," he rasped, just then realizing how dry his throat felt. He reached for the glass of water on his bedside table and took a swallow.

Betty startled awake, her green eyes wide. "Juggie!" she exclaimed, tears springing to her eyes. "Oh, thank God. I've been so worried!"

"I'm fine," Jughead replied. The weakness in his voice was not convincing to himself or his girlfriend. "Just a little banged up apparently." He lifted his right arm, examining the cast.

"How do you feel?" Betty asked, examining his face closely.

"I've been better," Jughead admitted, leaning back and groaning. "What's the damage?"

"Concussion, broken wrist, and three broken ribs, which punctured the lining of your chest cavity and gave you some pretty gnarly internal bleeding," Betty said softly. She stroked up and down her boyfriend's arm, doing her best to alleviate some of his stress. "You have a tube inserted between two of your ribs that's still draining that off so your left lung can reinflate."

"Just stop there," Jughead said, completely alarmed. He raised his good hand. "Nope, nuh-uh. I need to know nothing about that. It is not to be mentioned again."

Betty laughed, glad to see that at least some of her boyfriend's humor remained intact despite his condition. "Noted," she replied. "No more mentioning of the chest tube."

"Glad we're on the same page."

Jughead reached up, touching his face tenderly. It felt swollen and sore, and there were stitches stretching across a gash on his cheekbone. "Sorry, Betty, looks like I'm going to have a scar across my face."

"I think it makes you look brave," Betty murmured, stroking the uninjured part of Jughead's face. "You also have two black eyes. You look like a raccoon."

"I believe the correct term is panda," Jughead replied, giving a crooked smile at the sound of Betty's laughter. "How long do they have to keep me in here?"

"At least a week," Betty replied. "I would explain why, but it sounds like you are totally uninterested in learning about a particular piece of equipment that may or may not be inserted in your side."

"Yes, completely uninterested," Jughead replied. He gave a weak groan. "Everything hurts, Betts," he added in a whisper.

"I'll go get the nurse and see if you can have any medication," Betty said, standing up. "They haven't been in for a while."

"No," Jughead replied, feeling anxiety rise in his chest. He didn't know where it was coming from, but Betty being by his side seemed to alleviate it. "I need you with me more than I need pain meds right now. Please don't go."

"As long as you're sure," Betty frowned; Jughead typically didn't express fear. She sat back down and resumed holding and stroking his hand.

"So, who is he?" Jughead asked.

"We still don't know," Betty replied, studying her boyfriend's damaged face. "The police have embargoed the reveal until they have more information. He's here in the hospital though. Archie bashed in his skull pretty well."

"Good ole Archie Andrews, coming through in the nick of time," Jughead said. His gut lurched; just the thought of what the Black Hood may have done to Betty was too horrifying for him to think about.

"I was so scared, Jug," Betty whispered, blinking back tears. "When he had me cornered. I didn't know what he was going to do to me, and I knew I had to get you out of there fast. You were fading before my eyes…"

"I know, Betts," Jughead said. It was time for him to hold Betty's hand in his. "But I'm okay, and Archie stopped him before he could get to you, and that's all that matters now."

"You're right," Betty replied softly. "I'm so sorry, Jug. This is all my fault."

"What are you talking about?" Jughead asked, confused. "None of this is your fault."

"If I hadn't started ignoring the Black Hood, none of this would've happened," Betty said, a stray tear spilling down her cheek.

"Yeah, and then you and I would've still been broken up," Jughead interjected, "and believe me, Betty, this sucks, but us being apart was way worse."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Betty said, sniffing.

"You know that's not true," Jughead reassured her, giving her hand a squeeze. A particularly painful throb radiated across his body and he did his best to hide his wince from Betty, not wanting to add to her guilt.

At that moment, a nurse came into the room. "Welcome back, Mr. Jones," she said, brushing her blonde bangs out of her face. "I'm Joanna, I'm going to be your nurse this evening. How are you feeling?"

"Kind of like I was hit by a car, held hostage, and tortured for a day," Jughead groaned, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

"Well, you're due for a dosage of pain medication if you would like," Joanna said, reading his electronic chart on the room's computer. "We've also put you on antibiotics while you have the chest tube in."

"Ah, yes," Jughead said, wincing, "that pesky chest tube. I'm doing my best not to think about the fact that there's a tube inside my body suctioning blood to the outside of my body, so if we could never discuss that again, it would be excellent."

"Squeamish, huh?" Joanna asked, smiling and cocking an eyebrow.

"Books and journalism are my thing," Jughead affirmed. "Science and guts? Not my thing."

"Well I won't mention the urinary catheter we have in you either, then," Joanna said, bending over to check Jughead's IV fluids.

"That's it," Jughead said, turning to Betty, groaning at the strain it put on his ribs. "I would very much like to go back to that basement now."

"I don't think you'll care much about any extra tubing once your morphine gets in your system," the nurse said, pulling a syringe out and attaching it to the port on Jughead's IV. Once confirming Jughead's name and date of birth on his wristband, she pushed the stopper to the syringe, and a warming sensation spread up his arm.

"That shouldn't take long to kick in," Joanna said, assessing Jughead for anything else he may need. "It'll probably just make you tired. You can have another dose in six hours. If you start having any trouble breathing, push the call button. Both myself and one of the patient care techs will be in to check on you in a little while."

"Perfect, thanks," Jughead replied as she left, settling back into his bed. He looked over at Betty. "Are you sure you don't want to go home and get some actual rest?" The thought of her leaving still unsettled him, but he knew she must be exhausted.

"There's a zero percent chance I can sleep if I'm not with you right now," Betty said. "I am wondering what's going on at home though, I lost my phone during all the excitement yesterday and I haven't heard from anyone."

"Something tells me we can expect an appearance from Alice Cooper sometime soon then," Jughead predicted. His eyelids began to feel heavy, and his pain was finally becoming somewhat bearable. He shut his eyes.

"Get some rest," Betty whispered, kissing his cheek.

* * *

Though Jughead slept well through the night with the help of his morphine, Betty found herself very restless. She couldn't get comfortable in her chair, and the moment she would doze off, either Joanna or one of the patient care techs would come in to take vital signs and check on Jughead's condition. Once the sun began to come up, she gave up on the idea of getting any sleep and played games on Jughead's phone.

Around eight, Jughead was clumsily eating breakfast with his left hand while Betty did her best to help him. They both ended up covered in maple syrup, but it was good to see him eat.

"You should try not to eat too much too fast," Joanna warned him, "your medications could make you a little nauseous."

"Nonsense," Jughead replied with his mouthful.

Betty smiled. Though she still noticed his grimaces when he moved around, Jughead did appear to be in relatively good spirits considering the circumstances.

"You're due for another dose of pain meds if you'd like," the nurse said, checking the chart in the computer again.

"Maybe in a little while," Jughead replied. "I'm hurting, but I'd like to be awake for a while."

"I can give you some acetaminophen in the meantime," Joanna said. She administered the medication and then left the teenagers alone.

It was around nine when Alice Cooper came barging into the room.

"Told you," Jughead muttered out the corner of his mouth.

"Elizabeth, I need to talk to you," she said, her face drawn and white.

"What is it, Mom?" Betty asked, wondering what could be wrong. Archie had texted Jughead's phone the night before to let Betty know that he had told Mrs. Cooper her whereabouts and she had said it was fine.

"It's a family matter," Alice replied tightly, eyeing Jughead.

"Well, Jughead is family," Betty returned evenly. "Whatever you need to say can be said in front of him."

Alice glanced out the hallway and shut the door. "I just got off the phone with Sheriff Keller."

"And?" Betty asked, her heart starting to race.

"It would appear as though the Black Hood is your father."


	3. Chapter 3

Betty's world stopped spinning. Her body began trembling uncontrollably, and she snatched Jughead's blue barf bag, retching into it. She couldn't look at her mother. Alice didn't know what had happened in the basement; she didn't know what her husband had considered doing to his own daughter. Once the heaves subsided, Betty lowered the bag from her face, still shaking. There were tears streaming down her face, and her chest was so constricted she was having trouble breathing. She glanced at Jughead and his mouth was slack, his face was almost as white as it had been in the basement of the abandoned house.

"That's impossible," Betty finally whispered, doing everything in her power to keep some semblance of her composure. "I would have known, Mom. I would have recognized his voice in that basement. There's no way."

"I wish I was mistaken, Elizabeth," Alice responded monotonously. She seemed detached, as if reality was too painful to embrace at that moment. "They called me once they removed the mask from him at the crime scene. I've been struggling all night with how to tell you."

"What do we do?" Betty whispered. Her entire world was imploding before her eyes and she had no idea where she could begin fixing things.

"They're taking him to a mental health institution out of town," Alice began. "He claims that he remembers nothing regarding his activities as the Black Hood. Whether or not that is true?" She sniffed but kept her ever-efficient composure. "I have no way of knowing."

"This is insane, Mom," Betty said, wiping the tears from her face, only to feel new ones sliding down. "Did you suspect anything?"

"He's been leaving at night a lot and keeping an irregular schedule," Alice admitted. "It began right around the time Polly returned to Riverdale from the group home. But I assumed he'd been having an affair. As I'm sure you're aware, our marriage hasn't been perfect, especially as of late."

This much was true. Even after Alice had allowed Hal to return home, Betty had noticed he was sleeping in the guest room more often than not. She hadn't asked her mother any questions about it, but the number of interactions her parents had shared lately was limited as well.

Betty nodded. "What can I do for you, Mom?"

Alice laughed coldly, but once she glanced at Betty, her expression softened slightly. "I have to get out of Riverdale, at least for a while," she said. "I believe I'm going to the farm with Polly and stay there. I was going to insist you come with me, but I think you have your own responsibilities here," she added, glancing at Jughead in the hospital bed.

"I do," Betty said weakly, reaching out to hold Jughead's hand. "But what about Dad? What about when he leaves the institution?"

"I will be handling all that remotely through Sheriff Keller," Alice replied, resuming the same detached persona. "Most of that depends on what comes of his stay at the psychiatric institution and whether or not the doctors believe his story."

Betty nodded. Her mouth was uncomfortably dry and tasted of vomit, but she was afraid she would throw up again if she drank any water. "When are you leaving town?" she asked shakily.

"As soon as I leave the hospital I'm getting on the road," Alice said. "As long as you're okay with that."

Betty nodded. Though she could use her mom during this time, Polly's need was greater than hers. Her pregnancy had had enough stress before this debilitating revelation. "You need to talk to Polly, it's important you go see her, especially now that she doesn't have to be in hiding anymore."

"Thank you for being so understanding, Betty," Alice said. She sighed and hunched her shoulders. "I know I can be hard on you, but it's because I know you have the potential to transcend this town."

"It's okay, Mom," Betty whispered. She stood up, hugging her mother tightly and told her to drive safely. Before leaving, Alice handed Betty a new phone.

"I'll keep in touch," Alice choked out. She was obviously doing her best not to cry in front of her daughter.

Once her mother left the room, Betty turned to Jughead and broke down into heavy, gut wrenching sobs.

0o0o0o0

Jughead lost track of the amount of time Betty laid curled up, sobbing into his side. Luckily, she had fallen asleep and had been slumbering peacefully on his shoulder for the past hour. During the horrifying conversation between Betty and Alice, the injured teen had done his best to painfully scoot as far to the left of his bed to allow room for Betty to cuddle on the right. If the nurses had anything to say about Betty's current sleeping arrangement, they could deal with him.

Once Alice left, Betty had crumpled to her knees and given off the most haunting, guttural cry Jughead had ever heard. He had never felt more helpless in his life; he was stuck in a bed with too many tubes coming from too many places while his girlfriend was suffering a complete breakdown four feet away.

"Betty," Jughead croaked, hardly recognizing his voice. "Come here, let me help you."

He watched as she staggered to her feet and fallen into the bed next to him, completely inconsolable. One of the nurses poked her head in the door to check on the noise coming from the room, but Jughead had shaken his head at her, and she had the good grace to leave the situation alone. Betty curled up alongside him in the narrow hospital bed and sobbed into his shoulder. It was painfully apparent that she was in emotional agony. Jughead had never felt so helpless in his life. Rather than give her cliché, empty affirmations, he just let her cry and release whatever emotions she needed to rid herself of. He showered her in support, kissing the top of her head and rubbing her back as best he could with his cast.

"I love you," Betty Cooper, he had whispered as sobs continued to wrack her small frame.

Though she didn't respond, she tightened her hold on him, showing her appreciation. It actually hurt quite a bit to be sharing the bed with Betty, but Jughead refused to let that stop him from supporting his devastated other half. He knew the pain she was going through at that time was much worse than anything he was experiencing.

Eventually, the sobs quieted down into sniffles, and sniffles turned into quiet, congested snores. Only then did Jughead allow himself to focus on the situation at hand. Hal Cooper was the Black Hood. He had always found Hal difficult to grasp. He seemed quiet and mild-mannered enough in daily conversation, the yang to Alice Cooper's yin, but it was often that his actions sang a different tune. Betty had told him the stories of Hal attempting to force abortions on both his wife and his oldest daughter, not to mention stealing the Jason Blossom murder board from Sheriff Keller during the drive-in's last night. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the two distinct "Hals" that seemed to exist, and it was definitely something he would investigate once he was capable.

An hour later, swollen green eyes opened and blinked blearily on his shoulder.

"Hey, gorgeous," Jughead murmured, planting a kiss on his girlfriend's forehead.

"I was hoping it would all just be a dream," Betty moaned. Her voice was nasally and almost unrecognizable.

"I know, Betts," Jughead said, pulling her close and taking care not to dislodge his IV. He was surprised to find his voice choked and full of emotion. He knew what it was like to have an incarcerated father. Though the circumstances were different, at the core, they both resulted in loss and grief.

"I'm so sorry he did this to you, Juggie," Betty whispered into his shoulder. "It's all my fault."

"Don't be ridiculous, Betty," Jughead told her. "You had no way of knowing your dad was the one terrorizing the town."

"We can't tell anyone about what he- what he tried to do, Jug," Betty whispered, stumbling over her words and grabbing a tissue. Jughead didn't know why she picked up the tissue; his gown was already covered in Betty snot and tears, and he didn't mind in the least. "It would break my family, and nothing really happened."

"Okay," Jughead agreed, nodding and continuing to stroke his girlfriend's back. He didn't necessarily agree with that decision for the sake of Betty's psyche, but this was not the time to argue with her; it would be another conversation for another day. "Whatever you think is best, Betty. This is your story."

"What am I supposed to say to Archie?" Betty cried, beginning to sob again. "My dad shot his dad! He'll never forgive me."

"Betty, Archie isn't going to hold you accountable for what your father did," Jughead replied. "I'm evidence of that."

Betty seemed to think about Jughead's response for a moment and nodded. "You're right," she murmured. She sat up and took a deep breath.

Jughead exhaled, his ribs had been screaming in protest at Betty's weight. "Betty, I know this is the hardest thing you've ever been through, and probably will ever go through. I know you're hurting, and I have never felt so inadequate in my life. But whatever you need from me, I'm your guy. You say jump, I say how high?"

Betty gave him a sideways glance and her mouth quirked up into a small smile. "Something tells me if I asked you to jump right now, it wouldn't do either of us any good."

"Oh, it would go terribly," Jughead agreed without missing a beat, his mouth forming a crooked grin. It was good to see his girlfriend smile, even if it was at his expense. "But I would do it for you. Whatever you need, Betts, I'm yours."

0o0o0o0

"Okay, and now pull, pull, pull in as hard and as long as you can."

Jughead's chest was on fire. He gripped the hose of the incentive spirometer between his lips and sucked in as hard as he could, but the ball that showed his progress along the main tube of the incentive spirometer barely reached the "500" level before he had to give up, breathing out and taking a rasping breath in.

"I'm sorry, Dave" he wheezed, feeling defeated. He leaned back against his pillows, thoroughly exhausted. His ribs were screaming in protest, and it was all he could do not to cry in front of the respiratory therapist.

"That's okay, Jughead," Dave replied. "You sustained a traumatic hemothorax. The chest tube has drained off some of the blood that was sitting in your thoracic cavity, but you still have a way to go before your collapsed lung is able to fully inflate and function on its own."

Jughead was too tired to flinch at the mention of The Tube That Must Not Be Named. "Am I still on track to get out of here within the week?" he asked breathlessly, placing his temporary oxygen mask over his nose and inhaled as deeply as he could before his ribs demanded he stopped.

"I'm not your doctor, so I'm not in charge of that," Dave admitted. "It really depends on how committed you are to using the incentive spirometer as regularly as you can, and we need to get you up and moving in the next couple days to make sure you don't develop any issues relating to immobility."

Jughead nodded, still inhaling off of the oxygen mask Dave had given him for their session. Just the thought of getting out of the bed and standing exhausted him, much less moving around.

"And if even if you do get out in a week, you won't be back fully for another two months or so," Dave continued. "No sports or running, or anything until we deem that you're back to one hundred percent."

Jughead snorted into the mask, regretting it instantly when his ribs gave a sharp throb in protest. "Sports aren't my thing," he said. "But I am going to need to go back to school at some point. Southside High doesn't maintain the highest standards in academia, but I do have to make an appearance every now and then."

"We'll get you there," Dave said confidently, clapping a gentle hand on Jughead's shoulder. "Great job today. I know this isn't fun work, especially with the trauma to your chest, but it's the best way to get you back on track and healing. I'll see you for our session tomorrow. Remember to do deep coughs as well."

"Thanks, Dave," Jughead replied. He had done his best to focus for that session, but his mind was anywhere but incentive spirometry and deep coughing. The amateur sleuth knew that out in the waiting room, Betty was sitting down with Veronica and Archie and telling them that her father was the Black Hood. He had to admit, Betty had regained her composure faster than he would have been able; only two hours after waking up from her nap, she had been maintaining almost-casual conversation with him, tightening her ponytail and smoothing out the outfit she had been wearing for the past thirty-six hours.

Jughead had been keeping a close eye out for her telltale symptoms of anxiety; in fact, he had been so dedicated to ensuring that Betty was okay that he had refused any and all narcotics offered to him by the nursing staff, much to their frustration. However, his girlfriend showed no signs of clenched fists, or even the little V that formed between her eyebrows when she was deep in thought. She seemed to have expunged all of the emotion she needed to, at least for now. Jughead did wonder, however, if having to rehash the conversation all over again with Veronica and Archie would reopen the metaphorical wounds.

Deep down, he knew their friends would take the news well and be as supportive as they could for his girlfriend, but the fact the conversation had coincided with his appointment with the respiratory therapist had been quite the inconvenience; he wanted more than anything to be there for his girl.

As if his friends could read his mind, the door opened at that exact moment, and in strolled Betty, Archie, and Veronica. Betty appeared to be calm and collected, though Jughead noticed her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"Hey there, beautiful," Jughead said, watching Betty with intense scrutiny. She gave him a tight smile and came to sit by his side on the bed, leaving the chairs for Archie and Veronica.

"How are you feeling, man?" Archie asked, pulling his chair closer to Jughead's bed. He looked pale and stressed. "We've been worried sick about you."

"Great, never been better," Jughead said sardonically. In reality, his refusal of morphine had been catching up with him and his pain had been steadily creeping up the scale since Alice's visit earlier in the day. "Just a couple bumps and bruises; I'm hoping to bust out of this place in the next couple days." He ignored the doubtful look Betty gave him.

"A couple days, huh?" Veronica asked, eyeing the tube protruding from Jughead's side. Luckily, the nurse had been in earlier and had emptied its receptacle.

"I think someone is a little anxious to get out of here," Betty said, grabbing Jughead's non-casted hand and giving it a small squeeze.

"You don't say," Jughead said, tilting his head back. He hoped his expression didn't convey the amount of discomfort he was in, but he saw Betty's green eyes probing his for information, and he assumed she had caught on.

Archie, oblivious to the couple's silent communication, progressed onward with the line of conversation.

"What can we do for you guys to help prepare you for Jughead's discharge?" Archie asked. "I know my dad won't mind helping with supplies and transportation if need be. I think he was planning on stopping by later."

"We haven't really discussed it," Betty responded thoughtfully. "After this morning's revelations, any forward thinking on my part kind of stopped, but we do need to start considering that. I guess I need to contact Riverdale High to try to get placed on online curriculum for now, and I'll take a leave of absence from the River Vixens, at least until Jughead is a little more independent."

Jughead opened his mouth to protest, but Veronica quickly shut him down. "Juggie, we won't hear it," she interjected. "The semester is winding down for winter break anyway. The teachers all know both you and Betty; they'll understand. Besides, Betty's probably done with all of her assignments through next year anyway."

"Exactly," Betty said. She hesitated before adding, "I don't think I really want to go back to school right away anyway. Something tells me I'm not going to be welcomed back with open arms once the word is spread that my dad was the Black Hood."

Jughead released his hand from Betty's and gently stroked her back. "How many times do I have to tell you, Betty?" he murmured. "We aren't our parents. We can't be held responsible for their actions. People will come around."

"I know," Betty sighed. She straightened her shoulders. "But this just makes sense, at least for now. Archie, do you think you can contact Jughead's foster family, to let them know what's going on, and have them put in the request to put Jughead on homebound considerations for the time being?"

"Of course," Archie responded, not missing a beat.

"Veronica, do you think that you could have the fridge stocked for us once we get back?" Betty asked, knowing full well that if she asked Archie to do this, she and Jughead would be eating frozen pizza for a month. "My mom left me her credit card, I'll just give it to you."

"Of course, B," Veronica agreed, looking happy that she could play a role.

For the next hour, the foursome solidified plans for when Jughead would be able to leave the hospital, and then fell into their typical, everyday chatter. Though the revelation of the Black Hood's identity had been a painful one, Jughead's shoulders already felt lighter to an extent; there wasn't a killer hanging over their heads anymore. Riverdale was once again safe, and he could now focus on getting Betty through the traumatic epiphany, as well as his own physical healing.

Jughead was happy to have the company of his usual companions, but as the minutes ticked on, the amount of pain he was experiencing continued to escalate exponentially. Breathing was becoming difficult due to the pain in his ribs, his head was pounding, and his broken wrist had begun to throb. He felt perspiration forming on his brow and was using every ounce of willpower to not moan aloud.

Just in the nick of time, Joanna strode in, syringe in hand. "Okay, Mr. Jones," she said, giving what appeared to be her best severe expression. "I'm not trying to go Nurse Ratchet on you, but I have been watching your vitals for the last couple hours, and your heart rate and blood pressure have been increasing steadily. That tells me you're torturing yourself by refusing pain medication, and I'm going to strongly suggest you take it. The better you feel, the sooner your body heals and you can get out of here. Now, what's your pain on a scale of one to ten?"

"Does a twelve count?" Jughead mumbled, allowing himself to close his eyes. He would typically be embarrassed for Archie and Veronica to see him this miserable, but he wasn't able to care at the moment.

"Jug!" Betty said, turning to him. "Why didn't you take your pain medication earlier?"

"It makes me tired," Jughead responded wearily. "I needed to be there for you."

"I think you've displayed enough heroics for the next decade, Jug," Archie said, standing up. He wrapped his arm around Veronica's shoulders. "We're going to get going. Both of you get some rest. We'll stop by tomorrow and visit."

"Thanks for everything, Arch," Betty said, standing up and hugging both of her friends. Jughead heard her voice break slightly before adding, "Thank you for being so understanding."

"Of course, Betty," the red head replied, hugging her back.

The couple left out of the room just as Joanna injected the syringe of morphine into Jughead's IV.

"This is going to have you feeling much better," the nurse said, watching Jughead's vitals closely on the monitor. "No more martyrdom while you're on my watch, okay? We get it, you're a badass, but you have to stay ahead of this pain if you want to get out of here anytime soon."

The nurse left, satisfied that Jughead wasn't having any adverse reactions to the medication. Betty was back in the chair at Jughead's bedside, her head resting on the bed beside his shoulder.

"You still doing okay, Betts?" Jughead mumbled, feeling the effects of the morphine. His eyelids became too heavy to hold open any longer.

"Yeah," Betty replied quietly. "Archie was really understanding. I hope the rest of the town follows suit, but I have a feeling that things won't be that simple."

Jughead wanted to assure the pretty blonde that everything would be fine, and that he would protect her if any issues did arise, but before he had the chance, his pain medication kicked into full gear, and he fell into a deep, pain-free slumber.

0o0o0o0

Five days later, Jughead finally got his wish and was allowed to leave the hospital. According to the doctors, his body had bounced back in an impressive manner, although Jughead had a sneaking suspicion they were just tired of him asking to go home. All the respiratory and physical therapy he had undergone had allegedly been successful, and the physicians were pleased with his left lung's ability to function on its own. Other than briefly losing consciousness during the removal of the chest tube, the teen's health had done nothing but improve, and he couldn't have been more excited to regain his freedom.

Betty was insistent that he came to her house so she could help him as his body healed. Once they arrived home, Betty had left to run a couple errands, leaving him on the couch downstairs watching television.

"Hey, Jug," Betty said, walking in the front door an hour later with several bags in tow. "I picked up your pain medication. They almost wouldn't give it to me because I'm not next-of-kin, but I think everyone's a little scared of us Coopers right now."

"Well, your father did just murder several of the citizens in our very small town." Jughead slowly climbed up from the couch, wincing as his ribs protested his movement.

"Don't get up, Jug," Betty protested, hurrying over to meet him and ignoring his borderline rude comment.

"No, it's fine," Jughead murmured, looking down at his girlfriend. Her eyes didn't have their usual green spark, and there were dark circles underneath them. Betty's ponytail had fallen out and her hair hung in limp curls around her pale face. "Betts, I am beyond appreciative of everything you've done for me over the past couple days, but I'm on the mend now. It's time for us to focus on you." He traced the thumb of his uninjured arm across her cheek.

"I'm fine," Betty replied immediately, blinking back tears. This had been her go-to response for the past five days.

"No, you're not," Jughead corrected her sternly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "And that's okay at this point. We'll work on it."

"I'll be better once I get some answers," Betty said, her voice muffled into Jughead's shoulder. She gently wrapped her arms around him, careful to avoid the injured ribs on his left side.

This was true. Though Betty had spoken with Alice on the phone every day, there was still no word from the mental institution where Hal was under observation.

"I know," Jughead murmured. He removed the bags from Betty's hands and slowly led her upstairs to her bedroom. "You need rest."

"There's so much I have to do," Betty responded despondently, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I have to check in with the schools and make us dinner. I don't have time for a nap right now."

"Nonsense. I can call the schools and ask what we need to know. They know the situation well enough at this point. And we must have fifteen frozen pizzas in the freezer right now. I can easily make one of those for dinner."

Betty snorted. This much was true. Though she had sent Veronica grocery shopping with her mom's credit card, it was evident Archie had been present during the endeavor.

"Plus," Jughead continued, sitting down on the bed next to Betty and placing his hand on her thigh, "I could always lay down with you for a while…" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"I don't think either of us has it in us for that right now," Betty laughed, placing her hand over Jughead's and moving it lower down her leg.

"Oh, you're totally right," Jughead agreed, giving one of his rare, genuine grins. "It would be a complete disaster, but I thought I should at least extend the offer."

"I have every intention of revisiting that with you someday soon," Betty said, still smiling, "but let's wait a little longer than six hours after your release from the hospital."

"You're right. This pain medication probably isn't doing anything for my masculinity right now anyway." Jughead laid down gingerly and patted the bed next to him. "We can at least lay down for a while, Betts. Everything can wait. Let's get some rest." Betty began to protest, but he quickly interrupted. "I'm crippled, remember? You can't deny a cripple what he wants."

Betty sighed and gave another small smile. "I guess I could lay down for a few minutes."

Jughead rolled over, grimacing as his body revolted at the movement and nestled his head behind Betty's on her pillow. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "This is much better."

"It does feel nice to lay down in my own bed," Betty murmured drowsily.

0o0o0o0

The next thing Jughead knew, Betty was bounding out of the bed, her ringing cell phone in her hand. The teenager sat up, wincing as shots of pain lanced through him, thoroughly confused at first; he had been in the deepest of slumbers.

"Hey, Mom," Betty said into the phone, "have you heard anything?"

Jughead assumed the answer was yes, because his girlfriend became completely still and listened intently. The couple had to have been asleep for quite some time; it was completely dark outside at this point, the only light streaming in was from the full moon that was visible from Betty's bedroom window.

For the next thirty agonizing minutes, Jughead watched Betty pace up and down the hallway outside of her bedroom. Her constant, agitated movement was impossible for him to keep up with; the pain in his ribs and head had returned with a vengeance upon waking, and the thought of getting up and walking at that particular moment was unpleasant at best. The fragments of conversation that he was capable of overhearing did not reveal much information either; the sleuth found himself overwhelmed with the number of directions the phone call could be taking.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Betty walked into the room, putting her phone in her back pocket. She had tears in her eyes but remained composed.

"So?"

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Betty took a deep breath. "I'm not exactly sure where to start," she admitted.

"The beginning usually helps." Jughead placed a reassuring hand on her back.

"Well, he's been in observation at the mental hospital associated with the Sisters of Quiet Mercy," Betty replied, playing nervously with her fingers. "And I guess for the first few days he maintained that he was innocent and had no recollection of committing any of the crimes or ever being in the abandoned house."

"Okay," Jughead prompted her gently.

"And when he became increasingly upset and stressed about being institutionalized, he, umm, he displayed indicators of a personality separate from his own," Betty said slowly. She was obviously still processing the information herself.

Jughead's mind went blank. Out of every possible outcome he had formulated in the hospital, which there was a plethora of, this was the farthest thing from his suspicions.

"Are you saying like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?" he asked slowly.

"I think that's exactly what I'm saying, Jug," Betty said, blinking. A couple tears streaked down her face. "They said it was a textbook case of dissociative identity disorder."

Jughead swallowed and continued rubbing his girlfriend's back. "And what do the doctors have to say about this?"

"I guess that, though it's rare, this sort of thing can happen in times of intense stress," Betty replied, recounting what her mother had told her on the phone. "He told the doctors he had been having blackouts and chunks of time that were missing, and it all started around the time that Polly returned from the group home. That's when my mom kicked him out of the house, and the secret that we're actually Blossoms was revealed. I guess everything during that time became too much for him and his body compensated in this manner." She paused before adding, "The doctors also uncovered some childhood abuse that none of us knew about, and apparently that is pretty common amongst patients with dissociative identity disorder."

"Are they sure about this?" Jughead asked slowly. "Believe me, Betty, I am all for your dad being at least somewhat more innocent than his accusations insinuate, but it seems like this sort of explanation is really rare and far-fetched."

"I thought the same thing, but the doctors are highly trained in cases like these, and they actually saw the transition happen twice."

"Okay then," Jughead replied, nodding. "And did your mom say whether or not she suspected this? Or had any evidence to support this claim?"

"Nothing other than what she told us in the hospital. She suspected he was having an affair because he would leave a lot during the night and hasn't been able to account for his whereabouts sometimes," Betty explained. She hunched over and rubbed her face. The past week had been nothing short of exhausting.

"Hey," Jughead said softly. He gently pulled Betty in his direction and leaned back against the headboard as she curled up into his right side. "So, where do we go from here?"

"It looks like he's going to be able to plead insanity for the murders and attacks," Betty said, sniffing. "He has absolutely no recollection of what he did, and the doctors do believe him. So, he will probably live out his remaining days at the mental institution." She buried her head into Jughead's shoulder and gave a choked sob.

"I am so sorry, Betty," Jughead whispered, his chest constricting for his girl. "What can I do for you?"

"There's really nothing that can be done," Betty murmured. "I'm heartbroken, Jug, but this explains a lot, looking back. And it's really helpful knowing that he didn't know what he was doing in that basement…" She let the sentence trail off, but Jughead knew she was referring to her almost-assault.

"You're right," Jughead murmured. He found himself at a momentary loss for words and continued rubbing small, relaxing circles on Betty's back while she cried into his shoulder.

"I am so sorry, Jug," Betty whispered in between sobs.

" _You're_ sorry? For what?"

"My dad did this to you," Betty cried, sitting up and gesturing from his head to toes. "And the entire time we were investigating, he was sleeping right down the hall from me. I should have known, and I could have prevented everything."

"Betty, don't be ridiculous." Jughead pulled himself up higher to where he was sitting up against the headboard. His ribs didn't appreciate the movement one bit. "None of us knew, and nobody could have known. Does what happened suck? Of course it does, but we will get through this together. That's what matters. You'll help me while I'm healing, and I'm going to help you get through this with your dad."

Betty gave Jughead a watery smile. "You always know exactly what to say."

0o0o0o0

Later that night, Betty was sleeping soundly next to Jughead while he lay on his back staring at the ceiling. It had been quite the week; there was no getting around that. His ribs ached slightly on every inhale, and his wrist throbbed dully, but it was nothing compared to how they had been mere days ago.

He knew the coming months would be difficult. Alice and Polly would be home within the week, which would be helpful in terms of familial support for Betty, as well as for transportation, but the three Cooper women had just experienced a debilitating loss, and Jughead resolved to help them in whatever way possible. Betty had said it best while he was hospitalized; they were each other's family now, and he would do whatever it took.


End file.
